The Other Other
by Secrets.of.the.Wild.Rose
Summary: A retelling from the beginning, focusing on Isabelle Green--the other who was forced undercover with the survivors of flight Oceanic 815. Follows her story as she mingles with the survivors and realizes that some things are worth lying for.
1. Chapter 1

Pilot

"I don't think now is the right time for that…"

Isabelle Greene had a laugh like the giggle of a little girl. It was charming, understated, and completely contagious. Ethan Rom thought it was _one_ of her best qualities—of course, according to him, she had many. He, on the other hand, had a quiet laugh that revealed his more reserved nature. When he was with anyone else, he preferred not to laugh at all, but when he was with her he often couldn't help himself.

"Come on babe. Nobody's going to miss us! They're all at that stupid book club."

"That stupid book club?" Isabelle glanced at the short table beside her bed; the book of the week sat there with a folded-down corner indicating that she had nearly finished it. She _would_ have finished it if hehadn't shown up last night and distracted her from her mission.

"Sorry," he murmured out of necessity. "I know you like it."

"I do," she confirmed. "But that doesn't mean that you have to. I'm a literature nerd and I'm not ashamed to admit it," she giggled again.

"I love that about you," he told her, smiling broadly as she continued to laugh.

"Yea?" Isabelle brought her giggles under control and rolled over onto her stomach, stretching her body to its full length beneath the gold Egyptian-cotton sheets and brown velvet duvet. "Do you _love_ that, Rom?"

He grinned. "Yea. I also _love_ that you call me that."

"What? _Rom_?" She repeated his last name.

To everyone else he was known as Ethan, which made sense, considering it was his actual name. Maybe one or two people actually called him by his last name as she did, but only Isabelle could make him squirm just by addressing him.

"So, how badly do you want to attend this book club meeting today?" Ethan asked her. His hand slipped beneath the sheets and snaked across her bare back, pulling her closer to himself.

"Hmm…" Isabelle only pretended to have to think about it. Of course she already knew exactly what her answer would be. Ethan was the one good thing about her life these days. He made her happy when nothing else could. He took her mind off of all the frustrations and complications. He was the perfect distraction. She answered him with a kiss.

"That's what I thought." He kissed her deeply.

"Juliet's going to miss me. I was supposed to bring muffins."

"She'll get over it."

They had just started making themselves more comfortably positioned, when an indescribable deafening sound coming from outside disturbed them. A moment later the bed, and everything else in the house, started to tremble. The vase of wild roses that sat on her dresser across from the foot of the bed wobbled and then dropped to the floor—the vase shattered.

"Come on, quick, get into the doorway!" Ethan jumped out of bed and rushed to stand in the doorway, wearing only his boxer shorts.

Isabelle climbed out of bed as well, reached for her silk robe that hung beside the bed, and hurried to join him beneath the arched door. "Have there ever been any earthquakes here?"

"Not that I know of," Ethan told her.

She pulled her robe on and secured it at the waist with the belt. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," he responded. "It's kind of exciting though, right?"

She shook her head. "I don't think exciting is how I would describe it."

It took a few minutes, but the trembles finally subsided, though the noise persisted.

"Let's go outside!" He decided suddenly, reaching for his jeans and slipping into them expertly as he ran toward the front door.

Isabelle hesitated only for a moment, considering how little she was wearing, before following him—her curiosity too strong to suppress. They emerged from her house in unison with others who were also curiously stepping out of their own homes. Everyone was looking up at the sky.

"Oh my god…" Isabelle gasped when she realized what had started the noise and the quakes.

An airplane was rapidly losing altitude. Its engines were in flames and pieces of the plane were tearing off and falling through the sky. A second later the plane snapped apart near the middle. The front of the plane continued plummeting forward, but the rear spiraled in the opposite direction. Isabelle didn't even have time to count a full second before the separate parts had crashed, sending shockwaves underfoot.

"Goodwin, did you see where the tale landed?"

Isabelle searched for the speaker, not at all surprised when she spotted him through the growing crowd. Ben Linus was their "leader" if he could be called that, if that was the appropriate term. He was the one in charge, be that what it may. He was the boss. He gave out orders and made people resent him. As far as Isabelle had been able to figure, the only reason anyone listened to him is because he had lived there longest. Nobody else had the credentials based on occupancy. Ben had been born on the island, or so he said. It helped his leadership position too that he knew exactly what made each of his subjects tick—he knew how to be very persuasive.

"Yea," Goodwin, a tall, strong man who used to be in the army, stepped forward and shrugged. "Probably in the water."

Ben nodded. "You run and you can make that shore line in an hour. Ethan," his eyes scanned the gathered group until he spotted Ethan, who was fastening the belt around his jeans, and still not wearing a shirt. Ben's bulging eyes looked critical, but he kept his comments to himself. "Ethan, get up there to that fuselage. There may actually be survivors; and you're one of them. A passenger—in shock—come up with an adequate story if they ask. Stay quiet if they don't. Listen, learn, don't get involved. I want a list."

Ethan and Goodwin both nodded, understanding all of Ben's instructions, and fully ready to comply. That's what people did when Ben gave a command—they obeyed.

Ben wasn't done though. He spotted Isabelle, clutching tightly to her robe, trying to cover herself more than she was. "Isabelle, I want you to go with Ethan. Since the two of you seem to get along so well…" he glanced at Ethan to make his point. "You'll go to the fuselage too. You're also a survivor—make up a convincing story. I want _you_ to get involved. Focus on the male survivors. Make them interested in you—I know you're capable of it."

"Yes sir," Isabelle agreed. She hated herself for agreeing so easily, but she knew she had no other choice.

"We'll meet at the Pearl after midnight," Ben told them, "for updates. Goodwin, go now!"

Goodwin turned and sprinted off, chasing the smoke trail of the tale end of the plane towards the water.

"You two, put some clothes on and then go." Ben demanded of Isabelle and Ethan.

Ethan nodded and Isabelle blushed, but they both obeyed promptly. Going their separate ways, Isabelle dressed quickly. Not knowing what to expect when she reached the crash site, she dressed as she would if she had been a passenger on the plane—full undergarments, pantyhose, a dress, and high-heels. After she had dressed, she hurried back outside and found Ethan waiting for her on her doorstep.

"Ready?"

"Always," she smiled at him, but was unable to express anymore as Ben was still watching then, waiting to see them off.

"Can you run in those heels?"

"Probably not," Isabelle shrugged. "But it's what I would be wearing if I were a passenger."

"Okay," Ethan took her hand and the two started sprinting towards the border of trees and they were soon deep within the jungle. "Just tell me if you need to slow down!" He told her.

She was impressed with how well her shoes treated her during the run. She never needed to slow or rest, and she only tripped once when her right heel caught on a fallen tree branch, but Ethan helped her back up and they continued running. It took them forty minutes of intense running until they were within view of the beach where the front part of the plane crashed. Fire and screaming signaled that they were near and so they slowed to discuss their plan before joining the survivors.

"Why does he want me to get involved and not you?" Isabelle asked, as she tried to catch her breath.

"I'm not sure…not completely…"

"You do know something though," Isabelle noticed. "Rom, what is it? What did Ben tell you?"

"He wants you to get close to the men," Ethan told her.

"I know, he told me that, but did he tell you why?"

"Because any relationship you build with them could come in handy later. He didn't tell me much, but he wants you to get them interested."

"Interested?"

"Yea," Ethan looked very uncomfortable explaining it to her. "His exacts words were: make them fall for you."

"Fall for me?" She laughed. "He makes it sound so easy."

Ethan sighed. "He knows you, Belle. He knows that you'll have every single one of the men in this crash wanting you in less than twenty-four hours."

She rolled her eyes. "You're sweet, but it's not that simple. I haven't tried to make a guy fall for me in a long time."

"I fell for you," he reminded her.

"That was an accident on my part."

"Strangely, that's good to hear," he assured her. Then he smiled and kissed her quickly. "All right, what's your story going to be?"

"Actually, I think the truth will be the easiest."

Ethan looked at her blankly.

"I'm a journalist who graduated with an M.A. from Columbia," she told him. "They don't have to know what I do now."

"Yea, I think that would sort of ruin the whole blending in thing."

"You?"

"I'll come up with something if necessary, but I'm not supposed to get too involved remember?" He took a few steps forward, being careful to stay hidden in the trees, but so that he was able to take a quick survey of a few of the survivors scurrying around on the beach, picking their way around the debris of the crashed plane while carefully avoiding the flames from the explosive collision.

"I need to be wounded," Isabelle decided suddenly.

"What?" Ethan turned to her quickly, not at all accepting her declaration.

"It will make my story more believable and it will create sympathy."

"You do not need to be wounded!" He protested.

"Yes I do," she insisted. "Trust me Rom, I know what I'm doing." She looked around for something to inflict the needed injury and spotted a small piece of the metal from the plane; she pointed it out to Ethan. "I want you to cut me with that."

"No way!"

"Do it!"

"I'm not going to hurt you!"

"Ethan."

He frowned at her usage of his first name and begrudgingly consented to her request. Picking up the sheet of metal, he brought it towards her. "Where do you want it?"

Isabelle considered all possibilities before pointing to a spot just below the ribs on her left side. "It needs to cut through both layers of my dress and slip, so make it deep enough to bleed, but not so much that I die." She smiled a little, but he didn't think she was being funny. "Rom, I'll be fine. I promise. Someone out there has got to know how to clean up a little cut."

"What if they don't?"

"Then I'll find you and you can take care of me. You are a doctor, after all." She laid down in the foliage and dirt, so he could have better aim.

He nodded and positioned the sharpest corner of the metal at the place she had indicated. "This might hurt."

"I'm ready," she clenched her teeth so she wouldn't cry out.

Ethan took a deep breath, held the metal high, and then brought it down quick and hard distancing it just enough so that it sliced through her side, but didn't puncture deeply. Her eyes watered automatically, but it didn't hurt as much as she had anticipated it to and when he pulled her to her feet she only flinched a little.

"You okay?"

She nodded, but gripped his hand a little too tightly for him to be fully convinced. "I will be."

"Good," he kissed her once more. "We should probably get out there before our sudden appearance gets too suspicious."

"You go first," she instructed. "It would be weird if we were together. Plus, I need to strategize a little more."

"Okay," he hesitated. "Be safe."

"You too."

With one more smile for her, he squeezed through the trees, leaving the jungle, and joining the fray on the beach. She watched him as he easily maneuvered into the disorganized mass of people, mingling flawlessly. Isabelle took a few moments to plan her emergence. She had a mission to fulfill, one which she wasn't ready to pursue, but she knew that she had to do it and as successfully as possible, or Ben would not be pleased—displeasing Ben was never a wise decision.

Isabelle tiptoed along the border of the trees, staying inside their protection, until she spotted her first target. A man was sitting alone with his back to the trees, his arms resting casually on his knees, and his shaggy blonde hair ruffling slightly in the wind—he was perfect. His isolation from the rest of the people was what appealed to her the most. She thought it would be easiest to approach one person first before encountering the whole group.

Her side had started to burn at the spot where Ethan had cut her, and so she clutched at it as she staggered out of the trees. The man heard her approach and turned instantly. When he realized that she was in a sensitive condition, he stood quickly and moved toward her.

"You okay?" He asked.

Isabelle smiled at him to show her appreciation of his concern. "Just a little bit in shock, I think." His eyes drifted to where her hand covered her side. "Oh, and I think I landed on something…I don't really remember what happened…but I got cut somehow."

"I'd offer to look at it for you, but I don't know anything medical."

"It's fine," she told him. "I don't think it's serious."

"Are you sure? Maybe you should sit down…"

On closer inspection of the stranger, Isabelle decided he had probably never flown first class, never voluntarily visited Paris, and never been married. She smiled at her assumptions and accepted his suggestion to sit. She carefully lowered herself into the sandy hill near to the border of the jungle; they were far enough away from the chaos on the beach so as not to be distracted by the confusion and terror. He stood beside her, silently staring out at the scene of wreckage.

"It's insane, isn't it?" She spoke at last.

He looked at her when she spoke. "Hmm?"

"The crash," she said. "I mean there's always the possibility I guess…you hear stories of plane crashes, but you never really think it will be you."

"Yea, I know," he agreed easily. His expression was hard—his forehead creased deeply, his brows furrowed. After another moment he took a deep breath and let it out. Then he sat down beside her. "I'm Sawyer."

"Isabelle," she introduced.

"So, Isabelle, ever been in a plane crash before?" Sawyer asked. He laughed a little and then stopped when he noticed her expression. "Sorry, bad joke."

"It's fine," Isabelle told him. "What else are we suppose to say in situations like this?" She smiled, "were you flying alone?"

"Sure was," he answered. "You?"

She nodded. She realized this could become a dangerous conversation, since she didn't know any of the flight details and she wouldn't be able to answer too many specific questions; she didn't even know where the flight took off from or where it was heading. Instead of asking any follow-up questions, she decided to change the subject entirely.

"Tell me about yourself?"

"After you," Sawyer grinned, cocking his head towards her slightly.

"Not into to sharing secrets, I gather?"

"You gather correctly," he nodded. "You?"

She returned his casual smile. "Don't ask, don't tell, right?"

"Perfect."


	2. Chapter 2

Sawyer and Isabelle sat silently together for a few minutes, watching the struggle on the beach. It was a disaster—something Isabelle had never experienced. Then she had to remind herself that she wasn't experiencing this event, because she was never on the plane and she never crashed on the island. This was their experience and she was just an observer.

"Look, that guy there…" Sawyer pointed suddenly.

"Yea? What about him?" Isabelle looked to where he was pointing and noticed a man with dark hair darting frantically around the wreckage—his jacket and tie flapping in the wind.

"I've been watching him for a while and he seems to be pretty on top of the rescue thing," Sawyer explained. "He gave that woman there CPR, and he was pretty attentive to the pregnant chick."

"Oh my god, one of the survivors is pregnant?"

"She looks about ready to burst from what I can see," he shook his head. "The point is, I think he might be a doctor or something. Maybe he could take a look at your cut."

"He seems a little distracted at the moment," Isabelle commented as she watched the supposed-doctor attend to a man who seemed to be pinned beneath part of the airplane wreckage.

"Yea, you're right," Sawyer agreed.

The two of them watched the doctor scramble around the beach, attending to anyone who called for his attention. They watched him for what felt like close to fifteen minutes before they spotted him dashing off the beach and into the trees, away from the throng. Sawyer stood suddenly and gave his hand to Isabelle.

"We should follow him," he told her.

"Really?" Isabelle allowed him to pull her to her feet, but quickly pulled her hand back when her side began to sting. "He might want to be alone."

"You're hurt. You need to be checked out," he insisted. "Come on…" he placed his hand on her lower back and guided her into the jungle in the direction that the doctor had gone. They came up on him quickly and found him kneeling on the ground and busily unbuttoning his shirt—his jacket had already been discarded.

"Hey…" he looked up when he noticed them.

"I'm sorry if we're bothering you," Isabelle apologized quickly.

"You're a doctor, right?" Sawyer asked immediately.

The man nodded. "Are you hurt?"

"She is," Sawyer gently pushed Isabelle forward.

"It's not that bad," she insisted.

"Why don't you let the Doc judge that?"

The doctor motioned for her to come towards him and slowly pried her hand away from her side, which she was still hiding. "I'm Jack, by the way."

"I'm Isabelle," she smiled at the gentleness of his touch on her wrist. "So, have you had enough of all the craziness out there?"

"Sorry?" Jack only seemed to partially hear her; he was already trying to see the cut hiding behind the layers of her dress and slip.

"I was just wondering why you're hiding out here…"

"No, I'm not hiding, I just needed a minute…" he stopped himself and smiled up at her. "You know what, it doesn't matter. Now I'm here to take care of you."

Isabelle caught something more in his tone, and pulled away from him. "Are you hurt?" She watched his expression. "You are, aren't you? That's why you came out here to be alone! You're hurt and you wanted to take care of it away from everyone else."

He nodded. "It's fine though. I'll take care of myself later."

She shook her head and took another step away from him. "You first. It's only fair. You've been taking care of all those other people, completely neglecting yourself."

He smiled at her—he seemed a little surprised that she actually cared. "Have you ever used a needle? I mean could you manage a couple stitches?" He finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it off. Isabelle tried not to stare, but she couldn't ignore his well-sculpted abs and even more attractive arms, highlighted by a couple detailed tattoos. "Well? What do you think?"

She blinked and pulled her eyes away. "What?"

"Do you think you could manage it?" He directed her attention to his own wound on his side, similar to the location of her own cut. "I'd do it myself, but I can't reach it."

She nodded quickly. "I was pre-med, for a couple years. I never got my degree, but I think I can mange a couple stitches."

"Perfect," he handed her a sewing kit that he had recovered from the wreckage and then he pulled a few mini liquor bottles from his pockets.

"Now you're talking," Sawyer spoke up and stepped forward to snatch one of the bottles away from the doctor.

"They're not for you to drink," Jack rebuked. "It's for her hands, and I need some for the wound."

"Fine, that would take maybe one bottle. What about the other three?" Sawyer unscrewed the lid of the bottle he was holding and held it up. "Come on, don't you think we deserve a little relaxation after the hell we've been through?"

Jack sighed and glanced at Isabelle.

She shrugged. "He sort of has a point, plus I could do with a little something to calm my nerves before I go sticking a needle into you. It's been a couple years…"

Jack nodded. "Fine, go ahead."

Sawyer took a drink from the little bottle and then handed it to her. She took a short sip and then poured the rest over her hands as the doctor had instructed.

"We'll save the rest for later, when we're in a more celebratory mood." She pulled out the needle from the sewing kit. "Color preference?"

He laughed a little. "Standard black's just fine."

She threaded the needle with the black thread while Jack opened another bottle of vodka and poured half of it on his wound; he drank the rest of it.

"Ready?" she situated the needle at one end of his would and prepared to slip it in. "I don't know how this will feel, but I assume it's going to hurt."

"You'll do fine."

"You don't seem afraid at all," Isabelle told him. "I don't understand that."

"Well, fear's sort of an odd thing. When I was in residency my first solo procedure was a spinal surgery on a 16-year-old kid, a girl. And at the end, after 13 hours, I was closing her up and I accidentally ripped her dural sac, shredded the base of the spine where all the nerves come together, membrane as thin as tissue. And so it ripped open and the nerves just spilled out of her like angel hair pasta, spinal fluid flowing out of her, and the terror was just so crazy—so real. And I knew I had to deal with it." Jack took a breath and he seemed as though he might start to cry. Sawyer was watching from a distance, but Isabelle was listening intently. "So I just made a choice. I'd let the fear in, let it take over, let it do its thing, but only for 5 seconds, that's all I was going to give it. So I started to count, one, two, three, four, five, then it was gone. I went back to work, sewed her up and she was fine."

"Yea. There's a reason I only stayed in med school for short time," Isabelle smiled. "I never would have lasted."

"You might have surprised yourself. You're doing okay now."

Reassured, Isabelle sewed quickly, but carefully, not wanting to hurt him any more than absolutely necessary. He was tough though and barely even flinched throughout the whole process. When she finished and finally tied off the thread, she turned to Sawyer to break the thread free from the needle.

"That wasn't too bad, was it?" Isabelle ran her fingers over the stitching job she had done, very softly.

"No, it wasn't bad at all," Jack told her. "You were very gentle."

"I tried." She helped him slip back into his shirt and even buttoned a few of the buttons for him.

Sawyer stepped forward again. "Time for her stitch-up now, right?"

"Right," Jack stood and directed Isabelle to a tree stump where she could sit. "Okay, this is going to be a little awkward to ask, but I can't really access your wound very well."

"Yea, that is a little awkward, but I assume it would be easier for you if I gave you better access…" she untied her dress at the waist and partially slipped it off so he could see her side better.

"Umm, your slip is still…" Jack seemed very uncomfortable even mentioning it.

She smiled and nodded, though this time a slight blush crept into her cheeks as she started to slide the straps of her slip over one shoulder and then the other. She shrugged the slip down slowly until it revealed her pale-pink lace bra; she stopped when she noticed that both the men were watching her closely.

"All right, this is uncomfortable enough without the two of you watching me like I'm giving a show."

Both the men shamefully averted their eyes, giving her privacy to finish undressing. When she had removed the slip entirely she then held it up in front of herself to maintain some coverage, but still leave the wound on her side exposed for the doctor to work on.

"You can look now," she told them when she was ready.

They turned back slowly—their eyes still drifted automatically toward her chest. Jack spoke up quickly, trying not to prolong the already awkward situation. "Any color preference?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Sawyer can choose."

"Really?" Sawyer laughed. "I feel so honored."

"You should," she handed him the thread card. "I'm going to be stuck with it."

"Then I'd vote pink," he told her. "It'll match your lingerie."

She blushed and held the slip more tightly; very aware of how much she was showing them. She thought of her instructions from Ben and wondered if revealing her bra and panties to two strange men could help her mission at all.

Jack started threading the needle with the pink thread. "Sawyer, could you rinse the wound with the vodka?"

He picked up one of the small bottles and approached her side. "It might sting. Actually, it will sting a lot."

"I'll be okay," she assured him, but she took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut tightly. He poured a little of the alcohol over her cut and she whimpered a little, but recovered quickly. "All done?"

"Yep," he gave the rest of the bottle to Jack who poured its contents over his own hands and then prepared to begin the sewing. "Unfortunately, that was the easy part."

"Sawyer…" Isabelle spoke up.

"Yea?"

"Would you hold my hand?"

"You're not afraid of the pain, are you?" Jack asked as he held the needle against her skin.

"No, not really," she smiled. "I've just never had stitches before."

Sawyer knelt beside her and covered her hand with his. "You can squeeze as hard as you want."

"Thanks," she maneuvered her fingers beneath his hand so that she was gripping better and then nodded at Jack. "I'm ready now."

"All right," he slipped the needle beneath her skin and pulled the thread through. "That wasn't that bad, right?"

"Is it over?"

"Not quite," Jack touched her side gently with his fingertips. "I'll try to be quick though." He slid the needle through again.

"Okay, it's kind of hurting now…"

"Is it bad?" Jack continued sewing her up, but she could tell that he was trying to be as gentle as possible.

"It's fine," she told him. "I'm fine. I can handle it." Even as she said it though, she squeezed Sawyer's hand more tightly.

"Just think about something else," Jack suggested. "Tell me more about yourself. You mentioned that you studied medicine for a while. What happened with that? Why did you quit?"

"It wasn't my thing," she tried to talk without reacting to the pain. "I didn't like the idea of having to tell people that their loved ones have died."

Jack nodded. "Yea, it's not an easy job. What did you do after you dropped out of med-school?"

"I traveled for a while."

"See anything cool?"

She sucked in a sharp breath as the needle dug particularly hard into her skin.

"Isabelle," Jack tried to keep her attention focused on his questions and not on the pain. "Tell me about some of the places you've visited. What's your favorite location?"

"Egypt," she answered quickly. "I saw the pyramids and the Sphinx."

"Egypt? Wow, I've always wanted to go there."

"It's amazing," she told him. "You should definitely go if you ever get a chance."

"I definitely will."

"And Morocco," she continued thinking of locations as he continued to sew up her wound. "And Croatia was really interesting…"

"You really have been all over, haven't you?" Sawyer interrupted.

"I like to see new places," she explained simply.

Jack continued with the stitches, and she continued to squeeze Sawyer's hand. The snap of a twig alerted them to someone else coming through the tress. A moment later a woman with curly brown hair emerged into the clearing where they were stationed. She was rubbing her wrists and looking away from them; she didn't seem to have noticed them yet.

"Hi," Isabelle spoke up.

The woman turned to them quickly—she still seemed a little confused. "What?"

"I said 'hi'," Isabelle repeated. "Are you okay?"

"Yea, I'm fine…" she smiled a little, but still looked distracted. "I didn't mean to bother you…" She made this comment while noticing Isabelle's lack of clothing.

"You're not bothering anything. Truthfully, I appreciate meeting another female. These guys are great, but there's just something reassuring about knowing I'm not the only girl!"

She nodded.

"What's your name?"

"Kate."

"I'm Isabelle," she smiled. "This is Jack and Sawyer."

Kate nodded, acknowledging the other two. She didn't come closer, but she didn't leave either, clearly willing to stay with them.

Jack slid the needle through her skin once more and then tied it off. "Take a deep breath," he warned her and then he used his teeth to break the thread. "All finished."

"Really?" She looked down, trying to see the finished job. "Do you think it will leave a scar?"

"Probably," Jack answered truthfully. "It shouldn't be too bad, but the stitches were pretty basic."

"Well, we'll have matching scars then." She laughed and he laughed—it gave them much needed relief from the stress that they had both been trying to suppress.

"It's probably going to be pretty sore for a while. If it gets too bad, let me know and I'll check on it." He stood and stuffed the remaining thread and the needle into the pocket of his pants. "I want to make sure it doesn't get infected."

"Yes Doctor," she smiled and stood, still holding the slip for cover. "Turn around, please, boys." Sawyer and Jack turned their backs to her again and she quickly pulled the slip back on and then her dress. Kate averted her eyes politely, but didn't bother to turn around. "Okay," she told them as she finished tying her dress back in place.

"Now what?" Sawyer asked.

"I think we're going to have to go back out there eventually."

Jack looked to Kate. "Do you have any injuries for me to look at?"

She shook her head. "No, I think I'm fine."

"That's good," he stood. "I should get back. There were some pretty badly injured people that might need to be checked on."

"Thank you for taking care of me," Isabelle caught his hand and squeezed it briefly as he prepared to leave.

"Anytime," he smiled and nodded to the others before returning to the beach. Kate watched him leave, smiled at the other two who remained and then followed the doctor back to the beach.

"We should go back too," Isabelle decided suddenly. "We might be able to help somehow."

Sawyer looked hesitant to leave the quiet of the trees, but when Isabelle started to limp away he caught up to her. "You okay, Princess?"

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Just a little light headed."

"Want to lean on me?"

She smiled at him, but shook her head. "It's not that bad. I can walk."

Sawyer nodded and gave her some space, but still walked with her out of the trees and back onto the beach. The confusion and terror had calmed down only a little. Most people were standing still, observing the wreckage with quiet, but paralyzing fear. Some were trying to create order—pulling bodies and luggage from the scattered plane parts. She noticed the doctor had already returned to his duties and Kate had started mingling with the other survivors.

"I guess I'll see you later," she told Sawyer.

"Yea?" He seemed a little confused about why she was leaving him.

"I think I might be able to help out," she explained, and then she walked away from him, without looking back.

_Always keep them wanting more._ She thought to herself as she headed away from him. _It creates curiosity and interest_. Isabelle smiled as she swayed her hips a little more than necessary. She had no doubt that he was watching her walk away.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun lowered slowly in the sky, nearing the water, dying the horizon brilliantly red. Hours had passed, but it already felt like days. Isabelle had spent the majority of the day helping Jack take care of the injured survivors, but they had finally managed to attend to the simplest wounds and now all that was left was an unconscious man that Jack was faithfully attending to. From the snippets of conversation that she had heard throughout the day, Isabelle had learned that the flight had taken off from Australia and was headed to Los Angeles—Oceanic 815—but beyond that she didn't know much.

"Hey there."

Isabelle looked up at the person speaking to her. It was one of the young men she had met earlier—his name was Charlie. "Hi again."

He plopped down on the sand beside her and he also stared out at the horizon. "You've been busy today, haven't you?"

She nodded. "I was just trying to help as much as possible."

"That's good."

"I noticed you helping out with the signal fire," Isabelle commented casually. She wasn't exactly in the mood for conversation, but she couldn't neglect her assignment and as Charlie was a man, she knew that he was someone she needed to befriend.

"Yea," he nodded. "Sayid asked."

"Sayid?" Isabelle realized that she hadn't met him yet. She looked around the beach within her view, wondering which one he was. She spotted an Arab man still adding wood to the large fire they had started in the middle of the beach. "Is that him?"

Charlie followed her gaze and nodded. "Yea, that's him."

Isabelle analyzed the man carefully and had to admit to herself that, based strictly on sex-appeal, he was one man she wouldn't mind getting to know better. Her eyes continued to drift and she started taking inventory of the survivors strewn about the beach. Some were huddled together for warmth, some were still crying, and some seemed to be completely alone. Even though Ben had only told her to get close to the men, Isabelle couldn't help her desire to help make the survivors as comfortable as possible. She couldn't imagine how afraid they must be in this strange and foreign place—her home.

"I think I'm going to take a walk…" Isabelle stood and shook the sand out of her dress.

"Oh," Charlie looked up at her now. "Want me to join you?"

"Thanks, but I'm really not going far. I just wanted to see if anyone needed anything."

Charlie shrugged. "Okay, sure, yea, see you 'round then."

She smiled at him once more before heading away from him. She hadn't gotten far when Sawyer came striding through the sand to catch up to her.

"Hey Princess, haven't see you around much," he stopped in front of her and she stopped walking.

"I've been busy."

"I noticed."

"How've you been doing?" She asked with genuine interest.

"Not half bad," he smiled and pulled a fistful of protein bars out from behind his back. "Look what I scored!"

"You mean stole?" She smiled.

"I don't think stole would be right word exactly," he grinned and held out four bars. "There was this bag just lying open and no one was claiming it or nothing. I got them for you."

"For me?"

"Yea, I figured you might be hungry."

"I am hungry," she confessed. "But I don't think that I could eat four protein bars."

"Save them," he told her. "Who knows how long we'll be stuck here."

"Thanks Sawyer," she accepted the protein bars from him. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Yea, sure Princess." He watched her walk off again.

Isabelle wandered through the survivors, not paying particular attention to anyone specific, but just waiting for the right person to catch her attention. She spotted a young blonde sitting alone and painting her toenails near to the roaring fire that had been started by Sayid and Charlie, and she headed in her direction. Before Isabelle arrived though, a young man sat down beside her and held out a candy bar. Isabelle was close enough to hear their conversation.

"As if I'm going to start eating chocolate," the girl said to him.

"Shannon, we may be here for a while," he replied calmly.

"The plane had a black box, idiot," she retorted. "They know exactly where we are. They're coming. I'll eat on the rescue boat."

He sighed and still tried to offer her the candy.

"I'll eat on the rescue boat," she repeated more loudly.

He shrugged, ripped open the packaging, and took a large bite of the candy bar. Shannon glared at him and continued with her pedicure. Isabelle approached them and took a seat in the sand near the girl.

"Hi," she smiled. "I don't think we've met yet."

The guy looked at her and smiled, but the blonde ignored her.

"I'm Isabelle."

"I'm Boone," the guy told her. "This is my sister Shannon."

"Nice to meet you both," Isabelle was still trying to get Shannon to look up at her. "Are you hungry?" She asked finally. "I know it's not much, but if you're interested…" Isabelle handed Shannon one of the protein bars.

Shannon finally looked up at her; she even smiled slightly. "Thank you." She opened the package and took an eager bite. "What did you say your name was?"

"Isabelle."

Shannon nodded and continued to eat.

"I like that color," Isabelle told her, pointing to her toes.

"You can borrow it, if you want," Shannon offered.

"I think I might take you up on that, but maybe tomorrow." Isabelle stood. "Have a good night."

Boone smiled at her appreciatively, while his sister still continued devouring the protein bar.

Next Isabelle ventured over to the pregnant girl she had met earlier in the day, during her rounds with Jack. The girl's name was Claire, and she was just barely twenty-two. Currently, Claire was sitting on a broken piece of the airplane, and she looked up as Isabelle approached.

"Hey you," Isabelle greeted her as she sat down next to her.

"Hi," Claire smiled.

"How are you feeling?"

Claire shrugged, but didn't seem all right.

"Is something wrong?"

"I still haven't felt the baby since the crash," she told her. "I was having strange pains right after the crash—the doctor said it was contractions, but I haven't felt anything since then. It's not normal for it to be so still."

Isabelle thought it wasn't normal for a girl who was eight-months pregnant to be flying at all, but she kept that to herself. "Don't worry until there's absolutely reason to."

Claire nodded. "I know, Jack said I shouldn't worry. He says that my body's probably just in shock or something."

"I'm sure he's right," Isabelle assured her.

The girls both looked up as someone else joined them. It was Hurley, another person whom Isabelle had met earlier in the day. He was a rather large man in his mid-twenties and he had taken it as a personal duty to keep an eye on Claire.

"Hungry?" He held out what seemed to be a sandwich from the airplane supply to Claire.

"Yea, thanks," she smiled and took it from him.

Looking to Isabelle he dropped his head. "Sorry, I only have one."

"It's fine, I've already eaten." It was a lie. She had the protein bars from Sawyer of course, but she hadn't actually eaten since breakfast that morning, which Ethan had cooked for her in the comfort on her own home—it felt so long ago now but she tried not to dwell on it.

"Good," Hurley looked at Claire again. "Anymore, you know, baby stuff?"

"No, I'm okay." She smiled at his concern.

"Well, hang in there."

"Yea, you too."

"Bye Hurley."

The girls both waved to him as he shuffled away.

"Is there anything I can get for you?" Isabelle asked Claire before she decided to move on to her next target.

"I think I'm good," Claire told her. "Thanks though."

"If you need anything at all, let me know, okay?" Isabelle stood and rested her hand briefly on the top of Claire's head.

"Thanks," Claire smiled at her as she left.

Next, Isabelle moved on to two others she hadn't had a chance to meet yet. As far as she could tell, they were father and son. The boy was young, probably no older than ten or eleven, but he seemed strangely content to be on the beach.

"Hi," she smiled as she neared the dad and son who were huddled close to the fire. The dad was covering the boy's shoulders with an airplane blanket.

"Hey," the dad returned her smile.

"I'm Isabelle," she introduced herself.

"I'm Michael," he replied. "And this is my boy Walt."

"Good to meet you," she stayed standing, not wanting to impose on them if they weren't interested. "How're you doing?"

"We're okay," Michael told her. "We're holding together at least."

Isabelle looked at Walt, who was staring down into the sand. "Is he okay?"

Michael sighed, but nodded. "His dog was on the plane."

"Oh," Isabelle understood. "I'm so sorry." She kept her eyes on the boy and held up one of the protein bars. "Are you hungry?"

Walt glanced up at her and nodded. He looked to his dad as though asking permission and Michael nodded as well, so Walt took it from Isabelle and started to eat it immediately as Shannon had.

"Thank you," Michael smiled.

"My pleasure," she held another one out to him.

"No, it's okay," Michael refused it. "You keep it. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yea," he nodded. "If you're really desperate to get rid of it, I'm sure there's someone here who needs it more than I do."

"Okay then," Isabelle smiled at them both again and then left.

"Bye Isabelle," Walt called after her as she walked away. She turned and waved to acknowledge that she had heard him.

Isabelle kept the last two protein bars to herself and made a beeline up the beach to the edge of the tree line where her last target was sitting alone on a tree stump. He saw her coming at once and welcomed her with a large smile. The sand became thicker the nearer she got to the jungle and she had to step more carefully to keep the heels of her shoes from sinking into the sand.

"Hey you," he stood when she was near enough to hear him.

"Hi."

"I saw you making the rounds, checking up on everyone. I wondered when it would be my turn."

"Did you think I had forgotten you?" She moved closer to him and glanced around the beach to see if anyone was watching them before pushing him back into the cloak of the trees. "I have been counting the minutes all day until I got a moment to see you, Rom. You know you're all I think about."

He put his arms around her and kissed her.

"Careful," she reminded him, breaking the kiss for a moment.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm still a little sore from where the doctor stitched me up."

"Let me see," Ethan knelt beside her so he could be eye level to her wound. "I want to see how good that so-called doctor is." He grasped the hem of her dress and lifted it up far enough to uncover the stitches.

She sucked in her breath when his hand brushed against the simplistic stitching.

"Did I hurt you?" He pulled his hand away, but kept her dress rolled up. "I'll be more careful."

"It's not you," she told him. "It's just sore in general."

Ethan smiled up at her and gently pressed his lips over the sewn-up wound. "Does that help?"

"Very much," Isabelle smiled and rested her hand on top of his head. She loved running her fingers through his hair. He had perfect cartoon-character hair—lush and beautiful.

He kissed her wound again, dropped her dress back into place, and rested his head against her stomach. "I missed being with you today."

"I know," she agreed.

"I hated seeing you with all those other guys." Ethan stood, keeping his arms circled around her waist.

"Were you jealous?" She teased.

"Yea, I was, and I'm man enough to admit it." He laughed and kissed the tip of her nose. "I hate the assignment that Ben gave you. It doesn't make any sense."

Isabelle kissed his neck, which was as high as she could reach without standing on her tiptoes. "Truthfully, I think he only gave me the assignment to frustrate you. I don't think Ben's very fond of our relationship."

"Yea?" Ethan bent his head down to kiss her lips. "Do you think _he's_ jealous? I bet he is. I bet you that he can't handle the two of us together because he wants you all for himself! I bet seeing you this morning in nothing but your little robe really turned him on…."

"That is disgusting!" Isabelle laughed.

"Yea, but I'm pretty sure it's true."

"Okay," Isabelle let him kiss her again. "We should go back. If we're gone too long, the others might notice."

"I don't see why we have to hide our relationship," Ethan told her. "It could be a part of our cover story. We could have been traveling together…"

Isabelle shook her head. "I've already told most of them that I was traveling alone. Besides, how am I supposed to get the guys 'interested' in me if I'm already dating someone?"

"You're right." Ethan sighed, "I guess I'll just have to settle for sneaking kisses in the jungle."

"It's kind of romantic, you know?" She told him. "Our own little secret rendezvous."

"Well when you put it that way," he grinned and kissed her once more.

"Okay, for real now," Isabelle pulled away. "I'll see you later."

"Don't forget we're supposed to meet Ben at the Pearl at midnight."

"I won't," she assured him. "Oh, I brought you something to eat." She handed him one of the protein bars.

"You always take such good care of me," he took it and slipped it into his pocket.

"Somebody has to," she smiled. "See you later tonight!" She blew him a kiss as she pushed through the trees and back onto the beach.

"Hey Beauty!"

Isabelle spotted Sawyer waving to her from near the fire and so she made her way towards him. "Beauty?" she asked when she was close enough.

"Yea, you know, like Beauty and the Beast?"

"Okay…" she frowned, trying to see the connection.

"Beauty's name is actually Belle, right? Like Isa_belle_…" Sawyer explained.

Isabelle started to laugh.

"What?"

"I like that you know her real name."

He shrugged. "I know some pretty random shit."

"I bet you do," she smiled.

"Anyway, I didn't know where you had gone, but…"

He was interrupted as an alarming sound erupted from the jungle. At best description it sounded like metal being banged together, with ferocious growling mixed in between. Everyone turned towards the jungle.

"What was that?" Shannon asked loudly.

"That was weird right?" Charlie spoke up, looking around for confirmation.

The boy that Isabelle had met earlier, Walt, took a step forward curiously. "Was that Vincent?"

His dad caught his son's arm and pulled him back. "It's not Vincent."

The trees suddenly started to rustle and shake as the noises persisted.

"Did anybody see that?"

Hurley stepped up beside Charlie. "Yea."

Isabelle noticed something peripherally and turned to look as Boone broke free from his sister and started moving forward.

"Boone!" Shannon screamed at him and he stopped.

"Well, this is bloody terrific." Charlie exclaimed.

Isabelle looked back at the trees and noticed that everyone had started inching toward them, but nobody actually dared a step into the jungle. They waited for another moment, but no more sounds came, and they all moved back again.

"What the hell was that?" Sawyer asked rhetorically.

Isabelle smiled at him. "This day keeps getting better, doesn't it?" She turned her back to the island, giving her full attention to Sawyer. "You were going to say something before…well before."

He nodded. "Yea, well, everyone was starting to make their sleeping arrangements, you know putting out blankets salvaged from the plane or whatnot, and I got you this blanket," he held out a small blue blanket, labeled with 'Oceanic Airlines'.

"Thank you," she took the blanket. "You're so sweet."

Sawyer shrugged.

"So, where's your blanket set up?"

He pointed to a blanket spread out in the sand a few feet back from the circle of blankets that had formed in a ring around the fire.

"Not a big joiner, huh?" she smiled teasingly, but marched directly over to his blanket and spread hers out beside it.

"You should get in the group," he protested. "By the fire. It might get cold."

Isabelle glanced towards the trees. "Nobody should sleep alone."

"Well, all right then." He sat down on his blanket and started to remove his shoes. "You comin' to bed now?" He grinned up at her.

Isabelle rolled her eyes, stepped out of her high heels, and sat down on her own blanket. "Don't flatter yourself. I don't like big crowds either. You're just convenient companionship."

"I'll take what I can get."

"You sure know how to sweet talk a girl," she smiled.

"So, what do you think, King Kong or Godzilla?"

"What?"

"In the trees," he continued. "What monster do you think it is?"

"I don't believe in monsters."

Sawyer analyzed her expression, trying to decide if she was joking or not. When he decided that she wasn't, he continued. "Then what do you believe it is?"

"Aliens," she answered with a very straight face.

"Aliens?" He repeated. "You believe in aliens?"

Isabelle laughed and shook her head. "I'm joking! I don't have a clue what was making those noises."

"So, I heard the Doc talking to that girl, umm, Kate?"

Isabelle nodded for him to continue.

"They said they were heading out tomorrow to try and track down the front of the plane, hoping to find some sort of transmitter."

Isabelle nodded. "That's a good idea. If there's any hope of communication, it would probably be there."

"Yep," he looked out at the ocean to their right, and then to the fire where everyone else was starting to settle down, then he looked back at her.

Isabelle was still watching the people at the fire. She noticed how they started naturally bonding to one another—those that had previously been alone, now found companionship and comfort from strangers. She glanced at Sawyer and realized that she had found comfort from strangers that day too, even though she hadn't realized that she needed it.

"Sweet dreams, Sawyer." She slid down onto her back and tried to make herself comfortable in the sand.

"Yea, sweet dreams Beauty." He rolled onto his side, facing away from her and attempted to make himself comfortable.

She stared at his back for a minute and then looked back over towards the fire; she could see the other survivors silhouetted by the flames of the roaring fire. Everyone seemed restless and unable to sleep.

Glancing up at the dark skies, she judged how much more time she had until she was supposed to meet Ben at the Pearl station. Living on the island for as long as she had, Isabelle had become good friends with her natural surroundings. At her best guess, she had a little under two hours before she was supposed to be there, so that gave her less than an hour before she needed to head into the jungle.

Her eyes scanned the crowd of people, searching for Ethan. It took her a moment to locate him, but she finally spotted him standing at the edge of the group; he was also looking around. Their eyes met, even though they were both squinting in the darkness, but when they saw each other they smiled.

She didn't want to fall asleep, because she didn't know if she'd be able to wake herself up again, but it had been a long day and she wasn't sure if she could stay awake for that long either. In order to keep herself awake, she knew she would need to keep her mind working, so she thought of the only thing that ever occupied her thoughts—home.

Isabelle could see it all so plainly still—her life before the island. All she wanted was to find a way to get back to that life, away from this place and these people who she 'worked' for. There was so much that she missed and so much that they had taken from her. She noticed Ethan smiling at her again and she had to smile back.

Ethan, of course, was the exception on the island. He kept her sane and she hoped that when she one day found a way back home, he would be right beside her, holding her hand still making her life better. They had talked about it before—life off the island. They were going to get married and live in New York, close to Central Park so they could spend afternoons there with the kids they were going to have together…

"You still awake Beauty?"

Her thoughts were cut short as Sawyer rolled back to face her.

"Yea, I'm still awake," she answered him. "I thought you were sleeping." She was lying. She knew he hadn't started to sleep yet because his breathing had never regulated completely.

"Not exactly a Four Seasons, is it?"

Isabelle smiled at him. "Do you stay at Four Seasons often?"

"Nope," he replied. "Never even used a bathroom in one, but you look like you might've tasted their pillow mints once or twice."

She nodded. "I've visited my share."

"Tell me a story," he asked suddenly.

"A story?"

"Supposedly bedtime stories are a good way to go to sleep."

Isabelle laughed. "I'm no good at making stories up."

"Have you ever tried?"

Isabelle was silent for a minute. "I can tell you about Goldilocks."

"Doesn't she get eaten by bears?"

"No!" she laughed again. "She gets away."

"I'm not sure that a bedtime story should involve the phrase 'she gets away' though."

"You're probably right. How about Little Red Riding Hood?"

"Isn't she eaten by a wolf?"

Isabelle laughed again. "No…she gets away too."

"I'm sensing a trend."

"And I'm sensing a serious lack of suitable bedtime stories. What's with the chase scenes?"

"Maybe we should just try counting sheep."

"Fine with me," she agreed. "It saves me from pretending to be a good storyteller."

"Good night again."

"Good night." She watched him roll over once again.

She kept her eyes on his back as his breathing started to slow. She again started reflecting on the life that she so desperately wanted in order to distract herself from sleep. Eventually Sawyer's breathing slowed to a regular pattern that proved he was finally asleep.

_Ten more minutes, _she told herself. Before a minute had passed though, she spotted Ethan separating from the rest of the group. His shadow slipped into the jungle and disappeared from her sight. _That's good enough for me_.


	4. Chapter 4

Isabelle listened to Sawyer's breathing for another moment and then quietly stood and tiptoed into the jungle after Ethan. She found him waiting for her just inside the border of trees.

"We still have some time before we're supposed to be there," she told him.

"I know, but I was hoping you would follow me if you saw me head off early."

"You know me so well," she smiled. "I thought we discussed this already though. We can't risk being seen together, Rom."

"Nobody is here right now Belle," Ethan told her. "Nobody but you…" he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, "…and me."

"Okay, hold on now!" she squirmed to get out of his arms, but he didn't release her, and she wasn't trying very hard. In a moment she gave up and settled into his embrace. "If anyone sees us…" she stopped talking when his lips covered hers. "Maybe we should go further in, just to be safe."

He showed that he agreed with her by taking her hand and pulling her on. She tried not to laugh too loudly as she tripped along in her heels.

"Don't pull too hard, Rom!" She insisted. "I won't be able to keep up with you!" Ethan slowed considerately and let her set the pace instead.

They moved steadily for almost thirty minutes before stopping again. He never dropped her hand once, and she managed to keep up with him without a struggle. When they stopped, they both dropped to the ground to rest among the foliage.

"Why are we stopping here?" Isabelle asked as she tried to make herself more comfortable on the ground. "The Pearl station is still at least a ten minute walk."

Ethan scooted closer to her so he could press his lips against her cheek. "And we still have some time before we're supposed to meet them."

"Oh? Is that so?" Isabelle turned her lips to him. "Whatever will we do with our free time?"

"Hopefully nothing that requires me to gouge out my eyes."

Both Ethan and Isabelle turned at the unexpected voice behind them. Ethan stood.

"Hey Goodwin," he held his hand out to his friend. "How's your crash site?"

"A disaster, but I didn't expect much better. You?" Goodwin glanced down at Isabelle who was still sitting, now with her arm lightly looped around Ethan's leg.

"Surprisingly under control, actually."

Goodwin looked impressed, but didn't say anything else about it.

"Have you met anyone interesting?" Isabelle asked.

Goodwin glanced at her again—very briefly—and then shrugged.

"You have," she commented. "I can tell because you won't look at me." She smiled. "What's her name?"

Goodwin fixed his gaze on her now as though to prove himself to her. "There's nobody in particular, Isabelle. There aren't many survivors in the first place."

"But there is one that has interested you more than the others, isn't there?"

He shrugged again.

"Good, you're here."

Everyone turned to look the other direction where they saw Ben emerging from the dense trees, followed closely by a few of his closest companions.

"You're early," Ethan commented. He reached a hand down to Isabelle and pulled her to her feet. "And you're in the wrong place."

"So are you," Ben observed.

"Well," Ethan slipped his arm around Isabelle's waist, even though she tried to keep him at a distance. "We had been hoping for some alone time, if you know what I mean."

"Yes, Ethan, I know what you mean," Ben replied solemnly. "You should also know that we came early, knowing that you would be trying to engage in something scandalous, which you should not be doing."

"What, you mean sex?" Ethan asked bluntly. "Are you seriously trying to tell me that I'm not allowed to have sex with my girl?"

"Your girl?" Ben repeated.

Goodwin snickered in the background.

"Rom…." Isabelle tried to slip away from him, but he held her tightly.

"Look Ben, we're doing our job. None of the survivors are aware that we even know each other," Ethan assured him. "So, excuse me if I want a moment alone with her! You can't keep us apart for good."

"I'm not trying to keep you apart," Ben told him. "I'm trying to keep you focused." His bulging eyes drifted from Isabelle to Ethan. "If I wanted to keep you apart I would have locked one of you at the Hydra station months ago. Just don't blame me when she gets pregnant and dies."

Isabelle stopped struggling against Ethan and transferred her energy to glaring at Ben. "Can we just get on with this meeting, since we're all here?"

Ben nodded. "Ethan, do you have a list?"

Ethan pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Ben. Isabelle looked at it curiously—she hadn't known about that part of Ethan's activities while they were with the survivors. Ben unfolded it and glanced over it briefly. From what Isabelle could see, it had the names of all the survivors from the flight.

"Good," Ben commented after a minute. He refolded the paper and put it into his own pocket. "It's your turn Isabelle."

"You didn't ask me to bring you anything," she protested.

"I am aware," he paused. "Did you do as you were told, though? Have you made yourself familiar with the male survivors?"

She shrugged. "I guess so."

Ben looked slightly irritated, but he didn't say anything about it.

"So what else am I supposed to do?"

Ben's eyes shifted to Ethan briefly and then back to Isabelle. "Perhaps we should talk privately."

"Why?" Ethan took a step forward.

Isabelle took Ethan's hand to keep him calm. "We don't need to talk privately. What do you want me to do?"

"You are going to utilize the relationships you have been building and you are going to have sex…"

"Sex?" Ethan cut him off.

Ben lifted an eyebrow in Ethan's direction. "This is not your assignment. It is hers."

"You want me to have sex with someone?"

"Yes."

"I'm not a whore."

Ben pulled his lips tight. "I know exactly what you are Miss _Greene_."

Isabelle looked down at the ground and then back up at Ben, connecting eyes with him. She didn't say anything though.

Ben pulled a different piece of paper from his pocket and read the name that was printed on it. "Are you acquainted with a Rob Lore?"

Isabelle tried to picture the different people she had made an effort to meet that day. She slightly recalled the name and she started matching a man's face to it, so she nodded.

"Good. You are to have sexual intercourse with him."

"What exactly will this achieve?" Ethan asked.

"That is not information that either of you need. This is her assignment, and that is all either of you need to know at the moment."

"I'm not a whore," she said again.

"That's a choice you are going to have to make. If you refuse this assignment, you should know that there will be consequences."

Isabelle was silent again.

"You two may return now. Isabelle, you have twenty-four hours to complete this assignment. Meet me back here at that time for your next assignment." Ben dismissed her and Ethan with a nod.

"I need supplies." Isabelle spoke up quickly.

"I figured you might," Ben told her. "Juliet is packing you a couple bags. We will leave them in the jungle near to your crash site so you can accidentally run across them."

"I need books."

"Books?"

"Yes, a couple novels. She'll find a good selection in my house. And some suitable shoes and clothes—perhaps some gym clothes."

"Anything else?"

"A couple of bathing suits and everything else that would be expected for a vacation."

"I will pass it on to her."

"Okay," Isabelle turned away from him.

"See you later!" Goodwin attempted to smile at her and Ethan as they started away, but his eyes showed compassion as they met with Isabelle's.

"Bye Goodwin," she returned the sad smile and left hand-in-hand with Ethan.

The two walked silently for fifteen minutes and then they finally spoke, certain that they were at a safe distance from Ben.

"I can't do it," Isabelle stated firmly.

"I'm glad to hear it," Ethan told her. "I hate him."

"Ben?"

"Yes Ben," Ethan confirmed. "That bastard. I can't believe he actually gave you sex as an assignment! He's doing it just to piss me off, I guarantee it."

"I doubt that's his only motive," Isabelle said. "He has no reason to keep us apart. I just wish I knew what his purpose was."

"It doesn't matter though," Ethan decided. "Because you're not going to do it, right?"

"Of course not!" She shook her head. "I don't even know that guy. I mean, I met him, but we barely said two words to each other. Besides, I'm not a whore."

"Yeah, you've mentioned that." Ethan smiled and kissed her cheek. "But just so you know, I never thought you were."

"Thanks," Isabelle gave him a kiss before they started walking again.

After fifteen more minutes they reached the familiar trees that indicated they were nearing their camp. Isabelle slowed first and Ethan followed suit, turning to look at her.

"Are you going to be okay?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." She took a deep breath.

"Ben had no right to ask you to do that."

"He has whatever right he wants," she replied. "He's the boss."

"Yeah, but still…"

She put a finger to his lips to quiet him. "It's just who he is. We know that, and we can't let it get to us."

"That doesn't mean I don't hate him for it."

"And that doesn't mean that I don't love you for that," she replied.

"Love me, eh?" He leaned in for a kiss and she gave it to him.

"I think it's time we head back," Isabelle decided.

"Why?" Ethan argued. "Everyone's asleep; nobody would miss us. Let's have some fun."

"By fun, I assume you're referring to sex?"

"You know me well."

"Rom, I love you, and I _love_ having sex with you, but I have just been told by my boss to seduce and have sex with a total stranger, which makes me feel like nothing more than a hooker. So, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not exactly in the mood for sex right now."

"Of course you're not baby," Ethan looked a little let down, but he pulled her into his arms sympathetically and pressed his lips repeatedly against the top of her head. "I'm sorry I even mentioned it. I wasn't thinking…"

"I don't want you to apologize, Rom." Isabelle kept her arms securely around his neck and let her lips brush against his neck. "I just want you to understand why I'm saying no. Because under normal circumstances, you have to know that I would never refuse you."

"I know," he assured her. "I don't doubt you, don't worry."

He made a movement to let her go, but she clung to him for another minute before finally releasing him.

"Okay, I'm ready to go back now."

"I guess I'm ready to let you…"

"Let me go out first," she told him. "Wait a few minutes. If anyone's awake, we shouldn't be seen coming out together."

"Fine." He looked prepared to say 'goodbye' but he caught her hand and wouldn't let go.

"Rom," she smiled.

"I need you to promise me something."

"Anything."

"If you go through with this assignment," he started.

"I'm not going to," she protested.

"If you do though," he continued. "If you sleep with this guy, or whatever other guy Ben may demand in the future, promise me that you won't mean anything by it."

She moved closer to him and took his other hand in hers. "Mean anything? You don't want me to feel anything, you mean? You just want it to be sex without emotion."

"Yeah," he agreed.

"So, you just want me to be like a prostitute, basically."

"Belle, I don't mean that! I don't want you to do it at all! I'm just saying that if you do…"

"I know what you're saying Rom," she stopped him. "I promise."

"You do?"

"I promise that I won't feel anything for any other guy. You're the only one that means anything to me. Sex with anyone else wouldn't be anything more than an assignment, which is exactly why I'm not going to do it. Ben can't use me like that."

"Good," Ethan smiled. "Thank you."

"Is that all?"

He nodded.

"Okay," she lifted his hands to her lips and kissed his knuckles. "I love you." Pulling her hands away from his, she headed to the border of the trees. At the division, she blew a kiss to him and then left him.

Back on the beach, Isabelle quietly made her return to the blanket she had abandoned. Sawyer was lying flat on his stomach with his head turned towards the ocean. She sat down on the blanket and slipped off her shoes before sliding down onto her back and attempting to settle into a comfortable position.

Isabelle admired the canopy of stars hanging in the sky above her as she tried to drift off to sleep. It wasn't easy. All the happy thoughts that she had been using before to keep herself awake had now been with more difficult thoughts that refused to allow her any rest. Ben's orders had left her feeling angry, confused, and slightly nauseas. There were things in her life that she had been trying to escape from for years—things she knew she would never tell Ethan or anyone else who meant anything to her—but somehow Ben seemed to know everything and he refused to let her escape. Tonight's assignment was just one more example of his irritating power over her. She hated that he was so confident in her inability to disobey.


End file.
